Remember all those quiet nights
that added up to nothing much.
No thunder echoed from the heights
to muffle lovers’ febrile flights
of touch.
Recall such evenings strolling by
as caused our metaphors to mix –
those blended hues that mollify
severities that multiply
in logic’s bricks.
And think on sunsets, fading fast,
we hardly noticed ere they left.
Already of the future past,
we didn’t mourn what wouldn’t last.
We didn’t feel bereft.
And recollect the silhouettes
that drowsed upon emerging dusk.
Day’s fingers plucked, in pirouettes,
arpeggios upon its frets.
The grain threw off its bodiced husk.
Yes, call to mind the crepuscules
waylaying memory in sleights,
igniting slow, through finer fuels,
the fire of dead conceits and rules.
Remember them. Remember quiet nights.